So you all know how I feel about spiders, and if you don’t, then you are obviously super new here and have some major catching up to do. And I mean major, as in: Call in to work, make a pot of coffee, put on your footie jammies, wrap yourself up in a snuggie, light a fire, and get to reading. My history with spiders is akin to that of Bruce Willis and all those bad people with the creepy accents in the Die Hard movies. Except my stories are more realistic. And in place of a black, sassy cop, I have a black, sassy exterminator. I give it until mid-way through the reading of Spiderpocalypse 2 before you are spiking your coffee with some alcohol or sedatives and swatting at the air around you like a homeless hippie suffering from LSD flashbacks.

Lucky for me (but not so lucky for you, since I know you all love reading about my misery), I am not currently involved a Spiderpocalypse 4. Not yet, anyways. But it IS getting colder outside, and those arachnids are like old people when it comes to winter. They like to flee the cold, throw on 8 knee high socks and 8 sandals and vacation in your nice, warm, house. There’s probably a few Tommy Bahama clad arachnids lounging under a table lamp in your living room as we speak. And when Raymond the Bug Man was here 2 weeks ago, he did mention that my neighbors had just done a full spider spray on their yard so I needed to keep my eyes open in case they all flee in the direction of my yard and set up refugee camps on my property. And I’m like, “Dude…why aren’t you doing a full spider spray on MY yard so the refugee’s will go to the other neighbor’s yards? Seems like a simple problem to solve to me!” And Raymond says “Because it’s red ant season and I need to treat your yard for ants and I can’t treat for both at once.” And I’m all “When ISN’T it red ant season in Houston? And I know they bite and build mounds taller than The Boy, but when push comes to shove, I can totally live with them. Spiders? No can do.” And even though when I first moved to Houston I saw on the news that some red ants got into a nursing home and pretty much ate a man who could not get out of his bed, if it comes down to a choice, I still choose red ants. I am not old and I can get my ass out of my bed if that happens to me. Unless I’m on heavy meds. Like I was that time in college I was home alone, in bed, after having my wisdom teeth removed, and I heard the Schwan’s man come into the house, use our phone and toilet, then wander around and -I’m pretty sure- stare at me, as I lay comatose and unable to make my body work cuz I was paralyzed by narcotics.

FYI: Nobody believed me about the Schwan’s man. Just like they didn’t believe me about the alligator on a leash in the sewer or the time the mice from The Rescuers came to talk to me about the end of the world when I had a freakishly high fever in the 4th grade.

Due to the fact that I had not eaten the day that Raymond was here, was quite exhausted from working out, and Raymond was wearing his “Trust Me, I’m Wearing A Safari Hat” hat that magically lulls me into believing he knows about nature, he won the power struggle over what kind of disgusting bug to spray for that day, and eradicated the red ants. And since I have only killed 2 spiders since then, I suppose that the refugees went to the neighbors on the opposite side of the fence. So sometimes at night, I imagine all hell breaking loose over there while I walk peacefully around my house in bare feet. Yes, occasionally I startle at a piece of pocket lint that has fallen to the floor, but I have been relatively calm as of late.

And, as usual, when one is relatively calm about something that they used to be super-duper un-mother-freaking-calm about, I came across a game changer. While I was in a google spiral from hell, I found an article titled “Green Lights Help Spiders Jump With Deadly Accuracy.” Immediately I was picturing hordes of spiders standing at stop lights, waiting for greens, and jumping on people like mofos. Just like that movie “The Birds,” but with spiders. But I was wrong. Thank god. Or I’d never be able to go near an intersection ever again. What the article said was that if you put a jumping spider (AKA asshole) into a room lit with green light, he will jump like a freaking psycho. He will zoom in on his prey (me) and jump, like, a million trillion feet and land on my face and dance a little “I just landed on your mother freaking face and I’m gonna set up a bachelor pad in your nasal cavity” jig.

THEN, the article said that if jumping spiders are in a room lit with a UV light (black light), they will get horny. Seriously. They will want to make the sexy time. Big time. It seems that these spiders cannot orgasm without ultraviolet light. And when chick spiders were put under UV light, the dude spiders went into a sexual frenzy.

I wish I was kidding, but I’m not.

And I wish that I wasn’t sitting here, writing about spider orgasms. But I’m doing it.

And I super wish that I wasn’t suddenly suspicious that the Little Miss Muffet story was actually a pedophile spider tale. But I so totally am.

It’s like that one time in high school when I dated this boy who liked Pink Floyd, a lot, and we drank beer and watched “The Wall” then went into his room to make out and it was covered with posters that glowed. It was all kindsa psychedelic and funky in there. And although it makes a person look super freakishly tan when they are standing there with their unders glowing like a Vegas casino sign, it still didn’t really do anything to horn me out. Which is good. Cuz I don’t really want to have anything in common with spiders, other than the fact that we both have long legs. That’s enough similarity for me right there. I don’t need to go on Match.com and get hooked up with a horny spider posing as a person cuz both of our turn-ons are black lights and glowing nethers. I have enough issues in my life without worrying about being inappropriately groped by a spider when I’m at an arcade or trying to play a game of laser tag.

At least since this google spiral I now know the spider-infested places to avoid. For instance, if I ever feel like going to a tanning bed I’ll just remember that there’s probably a gang of horny spiders hanging out waiting to pounce on my naked body. So spiders are accidentally saving me from getting skin cancer and looking like an Oompa Loompa. But they’re also making me too scared to get my groove on at the roller rink or go to rock and roll bowl. I also know that if I want to stay safe from spiders, I need to lure them away from me by living next door to a Pink Floyd freak with glow lights in his bedroom.

I will never be able to be under a black light and not think of spider nookie again. Though, now that I think about it, I might never be under a black light again, so it may not come up. Really, it depends on whether turning 30 turns me into a rave sort of gal. (I make no promises.)

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